


Bend to Squares

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Sick Ray
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:11:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ray is both mentally and physically ill.</p><p>(PS they're pretty out of character because I'm not very good at things like that. Oh well, I tried.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep Spent

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time ever posting a fic. So watch out for that. Also watch out for sensitive stuff because it's in there. (I'm not 100% sure I tagged things correctly). This story won't be very ship-heavy, but it was written with rayvin in mind.

Ray never expected to be where he was today. It was awesome. He worked in probably the coolest place ever. But it kind of terrified him. Because he had been so happy for so long. His mental health had done a complete one-eighty since high school. He never expected to be here. Honestly, Ray never expected to graduate high school. Not because he had failed to gain the required credits for graduation, no, Ray was very intelligent and and a moderately good student. (He slacked off a bit like every other high school kid but still managed an A-B average). The problem was that he didn't expect to be alive to graduate. (Try explaining that one to your parents). 

Needless to say, it was hard for him to fathom how he ended up with such a great life. Every day he would wake up and half expect to find a voicemail waiting for him saying he wouldn't be needed to come into work that day, or any day after that.  Even with his doubts (which he knew were probably irrational), he was happy. Most of the time. But he knew that was probably normal because everyone had their days. For Ray, yesterday had been 'one of those days' where he just felt completely useless and unimportant. He still laughed genuinely when he found something funny, and he smiled genuinely to greet his coworkers. He never understood how people would say that they faked their smiles, because that was never a problem for Ray. Every smile was a true and effortless smile. He still had honest moments of joy even when he was sad all the time. The only noticeable change was the amount he spoke. Ray was the type of person who talked incessantly. Consequently, he usually ended up over sharing or creating unnecessary conversation. So on a day like yesterday, he would only speak when he felt he had something important to add to conversation (which wasn't often because he didn't feel like anything he said was important). That, and he didn't want to physically be able to tell when no one cared about what he was saying.

Sometimes he played a game with himself called 'how abruptly can I stop talking without anyone noticing.' 

No one ever said anything. 

-  
Ray woke up and immediately regretted staying up so late the night before. It didn't matter because he would feel wide awake once he let himself open his eyes.

That was how his brain worked. If he opened his eyes after waking up, there would be no going back sleep. 

He was aware of how uncomfortable everything felt at the moment. His shirt was crooked and wrapped uncomfortably around his midsection. The sun peeked brightly through a crack between the blinds and the window frame, intensifying the headache he had woken up with. His comforter was heavy and he was overheating under the weight of it. His oscillating fan blew his hair so that it tickled his forehead. Everything just made him feel so claustrophobic. 

Ray threw the comforter off him and turned his fan off (more forcefully than he intended). He shoved his glasses on and went to the bathroom to change his bandage. 

'Fuck' he thought, as he peeled the gauze away from his arm. That was always the worst part. The cuts always tried to heal around the bandages, so taking it off after the initial night was just ripping them open again.

Today was a sweatshirt day. He always kind of wanted to hit himself for doing it because he hated having to be so careful the week after. It wasn't that he regretted doing it (even though he felt like he probably should), it was just that he hating hiding it. But if he didn't hide it people would start asking questions and trying to give him advice and 'help' him. They didn't understand. Not really. He didn't really understand it either if he was being completely honest. He wasn't depressed (that was a lie. The orange bottle in his medicine cabinet suggested otherwise), and he didn't want to kill himself (most of the time). He didn't even do it for the reasons people typically cut themselves. Ray had no idea why he started, and he knew even less of why he continued to do it. It wasn't that he couldn't stop, because he had quit before. He had gone almost three years and never once felt like he needed to cut. He just decided one day that he didn't want to _not_ cut anymore, and started again.

He knew that he liked the scars. He liked how they looked. And he hated that he liked how they looked because it was sick. It was sick and it was not something that he should find beautiful. Because it wasn't beautiful. It was anything but. He takes a fucking razor and slices his skin open. It wasn't poetic or 'tragically beautiful' or something that was cool. It was just stupid.

Yet, he continued to do it, and he still found his scars beautiful. But he swore that if anyone ever tried to kiss his scars he would flip out. That was one thing that pissed him off to no end. He knew that was something a lot of cutters probably dreamed about, having someone kiss their scars. But something about it just made him unnecessarily angry. And he didn't even know why.

He sighed and pulled on his favorite hoodie and a pair of dark jeans. At least he didn't have to worry about monotony at work today. It was a filming day so there would be things to occupy him and help him concentrate on something other than his own contradicting thoughts.

Ray walked the short distance to work, staring at his checkered shoes most of the way. The walk had become habitual so he didn't worry about paying attention to his surroundings.

He pushed up his sleeves because _fuck_ was it hot out today. The seven minutes it usually took him to walk felt like an eternity. By the time he reached the building his insides felt like they were being boiled.

He pulled his sleeves down over his hands before he opened the door to the mercifully cool inside of the building.

When the door closed behind him, he felt his head surge with pain and his vision go slightly fuzzy. He tasted blood in the back of his throat, which signified he was having yet another nosebleed. He held the back of his finger to his nose and went straight to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty. He had been having nosebleeds since he was a child, so he knew exactly how to deal with it. Lean forward, pinch and push up towards the bone. That's what he learned from his high school nurse. After missing quite a bit of class in favor of sitting in the nurse's office and depleting the supply of tissue, she had finally tried to help. By giving him useless advice. Granted, he knew that it was perfectly good advice, but it wasn't anything he didn't already know, so in Ray's eyes it was useless.

He threw away the last paper towel and washed his hands. He leaned on the sink and inspected his reflection. He looked awful. Really and truly terrible. His moderately pale skin was flushed and his eyes were a purple-ish green underneath. A shiver ran through him, and he wondered why he felt so cold when only minutes before he was near stroke level from the heat.

He checked his cuts and hunkered down into his sweatshirt before finally making his way to achievement hunter office.

"So nice of you to grace us with your presence." Michael said.

Ray responded by rolling his eyes and smiling. 

"Yeah, where the hell were you?" Geoff said, "It's like 10 o' clock." A shrug. "I overslept." 

Technically, he had gotten to work on time, but he had to deal with himself bleeding out through his face. Which apparently had taken him the better part of an hour. Shit. That one was particularly lengthy. If he was lucky they lasted less than ten minutes. 

"Whatever asshole. Just sit down, we've been waiting for you so we can start." Geoff responded.

This day was already _great._

Three hours and two Let's Plays later, ray felt like he was going to lose his mind. The pounding in his head had gotten to the point where he could barely focus on anything. Just moving his eyes hurt. And he was absolutely freezing. Everything he touched felt like it was assaulting him, giving his bones an electric shock.

Ray clenched his teeth in order to prevent them from chattering and pulled his feet onto his chair. He rested his chin on his knees and attempted to focus on his game. Which wasn't going very well. He eventually gave up and shifted so that his forehead rested on his knees and his arms were between his legs and his chest in an attempt to warm himself up.

The office erupted into conversation. About what, Ray didn't know. He couldn't think straight, and didn't feel like making an effort to form their sounds into words he could comprehend. 

"RAY." Hearing his name caused him to sit up and actually pay attention to what was being said. He wondered how many times they had to say it before he realised. Michael was asking him if he was going to join them for lunch.

He accepted thinking that maybe getting food into his system would help him feel better. He had also forgotten to eat breakfast that morning. And dinner the night before. He concluded that yes, eating something would probably be a good idea. 

He stood slowly and held onto his chair to wait for his vision to fade back in from the black that had overtaken it in the blood rush. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Michael asked. Ray nodded.

"Yeah, you don't look so hot." Geoff added. He paused thoughtfully and said, "We've already filmed most of what we need today, so you can just go home."

Ray would have laughed at Geoff's unintended pun, but he felt like his body would go into convulsions if he did. He nodded again. "Okay. Yeah that's probably a good idea." 

"I'll take him home." Michael offered.

"I can walk." Ray said, even though he wasn't so sure. He didn't want to inconvenience anyone.

Everyone ignored him.

"Can I come?" Gavin asked, "He might need someone to stay with him and I've already finished my important work."

"Find your own ride home then, because I'm not picking you up." Geoff said.

"I'll just stay the night there and walk to work tomorrow."

_Let's all talk about Ray like he isn't standing right here,_ he thought. The inside of his sweatshirt felt like it tugged at the edge of a cut, almost as if in response. If no one felt the need to acknowledge him, he decided he didn't feel the need to listen to their conversation anymore.

He eventually found himself at home on his couch, laden with blankets but still shivering. It was obvious now that he had a fever. Gavin was sitting in a recliner playing a game that Ray didn't open his eyes long enough to identify.

He heard the sound on the television mute abruptly. "Ray." Gavin said to make sure he was awake. Ray opened his eyes in response. "Are you okay?" 

"Gavin I have a fever of 101 right now." He responded automatically. 

 "I mean are you properly okay?"  

"What?" There was only one logical explanation for the seemingly random question. If the size of Gavin's nose was any sort of metaphor or indicator of his personality, it meant that he had probably looked through everything in his medicine cabinet when he went to retrieve the Tylenol. 

"You had a bottle of fluoxetine or something in your medicine cabinet. And I wanted to know if you were sick. Like really sick."  

Ray was too tired to panic. Gavin obviously didn't know what the medicine was for. "Yes Gavin, I'm 'properly okay.' Fluoxetine is just another name for Prozac." 

"Oh."  

He realized it probably wasn't something that would set Gavin's mind at ease, but he didn't have the energy to care.  

Ray heard the sound on the television start again, and then stop after only a few seconds. 

"So--"  

"Gavin. Not right now. I really don't feel good." 

As if on cue, Ray felt an iron tasting liquid running down the back of his throat. He leapt into action, but not before the blood spilled out of his nose a little. 

"Ray!" 

He ignored the shocked exclamation from Gavin in favor of running to the bathroom. He retrieved the tissue box from the tank of the toilet and sat with his back against the bathtub. Two in one day. Unlucky, but still not his record. Ray breathed heavily and felt his heart racing; the sickness was making him feel even worse than usual.  

Gavin appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. "Jesus Ray, you must really be sick." 

Ray nodded. He didn't want Gavin to worry by saying 'oh yeah my nose regularly tries to drain all the blood from my body.' That would go over well. Especially after the 'properly okay' conversation. He decided that (among other things) was a discussion for another day. He knew Gavin wasn't going to let the medicine thing go, though. 

Speaking of which, "What time is it?" 

"About half past six." Gavin replied. 

Ray almost laughed at the accuracy of his internal clock. He went to stand and retrieve his medicine from the cabinet but was stopped by Gavin. "Sit down. What do you need?"  

"Um. My pills." He said awkwardly. He didn't want Gavin to take this as an invitation to talk about it. He could see Gavin physically restraining himself from asking anything else besides, "Which one?" 

"Prozac and lithium." So he was a little more messed up than he let on. Hell, he tried to convince _himself_ he was a normal human being who didn't need a mood stabilizer _and_ an antidepressant. The lithium was much more recent than the antidepressant, though, after the first meds he was on sent him into an uncontrollable mania. 

Gavin opened the bottles and fished out one of each. Which made Ray even more uncomfortable because he was in the process of upping the dosage on Prozac, so he was supposed to take two until he reordered the prescription with the higher dosage pills. He cleared his throat and said "I need two Prozac." 

Gavin complied wordlessly and handed Ray the pills. "I'll go get you some water." He said, and walked out of the bathroom. 

Ray used the time Gavin was gone to throw away his bloodied tissues and rinse his face off. By the time he had finished, Gavin was leaning against the doorway with a glass of water in hand. Ray smiled and took the glass into his own shaky grip and downed all three pills in one go.  

"I don't get it." Gavin started, as they got comfortable in the living room once again. Ray froze for a moment, almost imperceptibly, as dread rolled like a wave through his body.  

"Shocking. Gavin doesn't understand something." He said in an attempt to play it off. 

"Oi, shut up. I'm just saying that swallowing one pill would be an amazing feat for me, let alone three." Ray felt himself physically relax. 

"What can I say, I've had a lot of practice," he said suggestively.  

"Are you coming on to me?" Gavin said, mock serious. 

"Even if I were, now would not be a great time. Because I need sleep." Ray replied. "Goodnight, Gavin." He said before Gavin could say anything else. He went to sleep smiling.


	2. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two making an appearance much later than I wanted. Sorry the story is quite slow moving and uninteresting right now. I'm not sure where it's headed so hopefully it will get better. Thank you to everyone who is reading this story :)

Gavin stayed up much later than Ray, as he had only fallen asleep shortly before seven. He guessed it was the sickness that was making Ray so tired. The extra hours Gavin had to himself gave him time to think (which he hated doing. Thinking about things made him slightly paranoid). 

To say that Gavin wasn't concerned would be a complete lie. He figured that the illness was probably just the flu, and that Ray would recover in a few days. But, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was something bigger. And that hunch made him want to take Ray to a doctor. 

The game Gavin was playing did nothing to quell the overflow of thoughts. He had learned more about Ray in a few short hours than he had ever learned in the years he had known him. Not that the information completely shocked him. Honestly, Gavin had suspected something might be wrong from the way Ray would go through periods of being boisterous and almost obnoxious, to periods where he hardly said anything at all. It was still a lot to take in. Prozac he knew was a common medication for depression, but he didn't know for sure what lithium was for. Gavin wasn't too well versed in the area of "medication for psychiatric disorders," because he never really had to deal with anything like that. 

Of course, he still had emotions. He felt sad sometimes, or angry without reason. But everyone experiences that. What he didn't understand was how someone could be sad all the time. How someone could wake up every day and sigh because they didn't want to deal with having to live. How someone could wake up and not want to do things that made them happy. How someone could feel so utterly hopeless. 

And it scared him because clearly, Ray felt that way. Someone with a professional medical degree thought Ray felt that way enough to warrant not one, but two prescriptions to help that. 

Gavin looked over at Ray, sleeping with a peaceful expression on his face. He found it strange that someone who seemed so normal could harbor so much inside. He hid it well, but not so well that Gavin couldn't tell when it was a bad day for Ray. Or a bad week. After spending so much time around him, Gavin felt that he had subconsciously become in-tune with Ray's emotions. (And sometimes it was pretty obvious. So much so, that the audience would notice.) 

Gavin saw Ray's eyebrows pull together as he shivered under his pile of heavy blankets, and he decided that he would discuss going to the doctor with him tomorrow. 

-  
Ray woke the next morning to a note on his coffee table from Gavin. 

_Dear Ray,_  
I walked to work today but I'll be back later. I would have made you breakfast, but I didn't want to burn down your apartment. So you're on your own with that. Rest up today. We'll talk later.   
-Gavin 

Ray rolled his eyes at the little heart next to Gavin's signature. However, the _we'll talk later_ took priority and echoed in his head. Talk? The way it was put in the note as the closing statement made it seem ominous. Ray was fairly certain he knew what kind of talk it would be, and he was _so_ not ready.

He was glad to have most of the day to himself, though. While he did enjoy Gavin's company, he still liked to have alone time. Ray figured most people would find this odd, considering one of his biggest fears was loneliness. But there is a big difference between being alone and being lonely. If he was _alone_ , he still had the option to _not_ be alone, but being _lonely_ meant that he had nothing to do but be inside his head (and that's dangerous enough as it is). 

He supposed that if he were to try and explain this to someone else, it wouldn't make any sense. Ray wasn't very good with articulating his thoughts into words. He wasn't even good with organizing his jumbled thoughts into something comprehensible to most ordinary people. But it made sense to him (sort of). 

It didn't really matter anyway. He was just glad he didn't have to deal with conversational interaction for the time being. 

Ray dragged himself off the couch and to the kitchen to refill his water glass. He contemplated what he could have for breakfast that required little-to-no effort to make, and settled on cereal. Ray mentally thanked whoever made cereal a thing, because even thinking about making anything else made him exhausted. He ate the cereal on the floor in his small kitchen, wrapped in a blanket. 

Ray was the epitome of a sick person. He imagined this would be a scene someone would see on a commercial urging people to get their flu shot. And he couldn't remember for the life of him if he had actually taken the time to get one this year. It didn't even matter anymore because he was sick now. Great. His mind took that moment to remind him that somehow he was going to have to stand up long enough to take a shower. 

Ray inhaled deeply and let his head thump back against the cupboard he was leaned against. Might as well get it over with now. 

-  
Once in the bathroom, Ray shed his sweatshirt so he could take of the bandages on his arm easier. It was disturbing really, how nonchalant he was with taking care of his cuts. It was also concerning how he had his routine down to a science (he knew exactly how not to get caught). He usually only needed to wear bandages the first day or two (depending on how bad his night went), and then he would let them scab over and heal naturally. From there it took about five more days for them to be healed enough to just cover them with some women's make-up instead of wearing a sweatshirt. 

Ray supposed he should have been a bit more unsettled by this fact, but he was so used to it he had become almost numb to it. It was just a part of his life. He didn't even need to consciously think about it anymore, some part of him automatically compensated for the days he needed to hide those stupid fucking lines on his arm. 

He turned on his shower in a sudden burst of anger and stepped in. The water was cold at first, but quickly warmed up. He sat in the bottom of his bathtub to catch his breath and rest his tired body (he'd only been standing for a few minutes but he felt terrible already). 

Ray hated the world at the moment. He just wanted to be mad at everything (himself, mostly). He hated that he had to hide it. Sometimes he thought about just saying 'fuck it' and not give a shit whether people saw or not. But then, people would either worry, or they would make fun of him (because really, it was kind of a middle school thing to do. But he knew that). And he hated that too. Which made him mad at himself for even doing it in the first place, which made him even more mad because he didn't know why he did it, which made him pissed off because he didn't know _what the fuck was going on in his own head._ His utter frustration may as well have been something palpable. 

Depending on the day, and how he was feeling, Ray either hated showers or he loved them. He hated them on days like today because he would drown in his thoughts and then just want to physically drown himself in the water that pooled at the bottom of the bathtub. On the opposite side of the spectrum, showers were where he did most of his creative thinking (or at night, sometime after 1 AM when he was too wired to sleep). 

Today was even worse because whatever had taken down his immune system made him tired. It made him tired by even thinking (was that possible?). Ray had abandoned all rationality at that point. 

By the time he finished showering and dressing he was drained. In all forms of the word. He had retired once again to the living room to watch some television (or probably fall asleep) and wait for Gavin. 

-  
Ray found himself shifting back into consciousness when he felt hands gently shaking him. 

"Good evening, sleepyhead. I brought you food." 

Ray groaned loudly. "I'm not sure my body can handle it right now." He said in a joking tone (even though he was being completely serious; the cereal didn't sit well with him that morning). "Just bring me some ice water?" 

"Oi, you're just going to order me around like that?" 

"That was me asking nicely." Ray laughed. "Fuck off and get my water, bitch."

"Alright, chill."

"I would be if I had that ice cold water in my hand!" 

Ray smiled at their good natured banter. He knew that it was only a lead up to what Gavin really wanted to talk about, something to ease him into heavier topics, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. 

"Hey Ray." Gavin called from the kitchen. _And there it is._

That was a lot less like a transition and more like a 'fuck it I don't know how to segue to this.' 

"Yeah?" He answered reluctantly. 

Gavin returned from the kitchen with Ray's water and his food on a plate. Ray couldn't help but think how comically pretentious it was that he insisted on eating _fast food_ on a plate. He sat down in his chair before continuing. 

"I know it's probably nothing, but I really think you should go to the doctor." 

That wasn't exactly what Ray was expecting. 

"I- why? It's literally just the flu dude." 

"I know... But I just- something doesn't feel right about it." He paused, then continued, "I don't really know how else to explain it. I just really think you should go."

Ray thought about it for a few moments before deciding that he would agree to go. He was past done with arguing about anything (he had a feeling Gavin wouldn't let it go), and he figured why not? Even though it would end up being nothing, it couldn't hurt to be cautious. 

"Okay." 

"Well. Alright then. I was expecting to have to drag you out of here by your ankles." Gavin said, laughing. "We'll go tomorrow." 

Ray sighed. "You have to call and set up an appointment. It could be a week before they can get me in." 

"Well that's bloody inconvenient." 

"Yeah, tell me about it."


	3. Fall Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. And for the short chapter.

The appointment was scheduled for the nearest Saturday morning. Geoff would act as chauffeur, and Gavin as moral support. If he was being honest, he would rather go into the doctor's office alone, but Gavin would not take no for answer. 

So there they sat, the three of them being loud and talkative in the waiting room (gaining some disapproving looks from other patients).

"Ray." He heard his name being called from an open door to their left. A short woman with dark hair holding a clipboard was looking around the room. Ray and Gavin stood up and crossed the short distance to the door. She smiled and led them down a small hallway to another door with a large number nine painted on it. 

The nurse, who had introduced herself as Karen, went through a general checkup with Ray before leaving. "The doctor will be right with you." 

Gavin sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs next to the table/bed thing that was reserved for the patient. Ray had the honor of sitting there. 

A few minutes later there were two small knocks before the door reopened to reveal his doctor. He had gone to the same person ever since he was about seventeen. He was thankful for that now more than ever because he didn't want to have to explain the status of his mental health to a stranger (especially while Gavin was in the room). 

"Hello Ray, how are you?" 

"Hi Dr. Shulte. I'm alright, but I could be better." 

He smiled at Ray and said, "I suppose that was a stupid question. I mean, why else would you be here?" 

Ray laughed. He had always liked Dr. Shulte. 

"So, what _does_ bring you here today?" 

"Well, I've been feeling pretty sick for a while. It seems like it's just the flu, but my friend here felt that I should come see you." Gavin squawked indignantly. "Hey!"

Dr. Shulte smiled. "I see. What made you think that...?" He trailed off and looked at Ray for a name. "Gavin." Ray said. "Gavin." Dr. Shulte repeated. 

"Well, I'm not really sure. It just seemed like the symptoms were too much to just be the flu. Like his fever is very high, and it won't go away." He paused and looked at Ray, almost embarrassed, before continuing. "And he's been shaking and out of breath and having trouble holding on to things. And his pupils are really big all the time." 

Ray was not expecting all that to fly out of his mouth (he was shocked that Gavin actually noticed these things). He usually avoided looking too closely at himself in the mirror, so he didn't know his pupils were dilated. And he had tried to hide his shaking hands but it was clear that Gavin noticed anyways. 

Dr. Shulte furrowed his brow and nodded. "I see." He said to Gavin, then turned to address Ray. "You're on fluoxetine and lithium right now, correct?" Ray nodded. "Okay. The symptoms your friend described sound like they could be caused by something called 'serotonin syndrome.' The fever, dilated pupils, loss of fine motor skills, etc. We'll do a blood test and check the serotonin levels. Karen will be in shortly to take some blood." He said and left the two of them alone. 

"Do you know what he's talking about?" Gavin asked.

"Yeah." He said. And left it at that. When he first started taking antidepressants he was forced to learn how they worked. 

"So... What does that mean? Is that bad?" He pressed. 

"It could have been." 

"What does that mean?" 

Ray sighed and launched into an explanation. "One of the meds I take is called a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, or an SSRI. Basically what it does is make it so there's more serotonin available." 

"What's serotonin?" 

"It's pretty much the 'happy' chemical. But the lithium also has this chemical in it. And serotonin syndrome is what happens when there's too much of that chemical in your body." 

"And that's bad." Gavin said, trying to process everything. 

"It could have been." 

Gavin frowned and opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by two small knocks on the door. 

Karen came in and took a few vials of blood from his arm. He was curious as to why she didn't just prick his finger like they usually do. "How come you're taking the blood from my arm this time?" He asked. 

"There's only certain things we can test with such a small amount. What we are testing for this particular time requires more blood than what we collect from the finger." She explained. "I'll take this out to be tested and Dr. Shulte will be back in with your results." 

And soon as the door was closed Gavin spoke up. "You keep saying 'it could have been.' What the hell does that mean?" 

"If it's left untreated it could be very bad." 

"Yeah I gathered that much. You know that's not what I'm asking." 

"It could cause seizures. Or coma... Or death." He finally said. 

"Jesus." 

After that it was silent while they waited for the doctor to return with the results. 

Those two knocks were the most welcome sounds in the world right then. Neither of them wanted to sit in silence anymore because it had become uncomfortable. 

"Alright, Ray. Your serotonin levels greatly exceed what is accepted as safe. It's a good thing your friend here convinced you to come in." Dr. Shulte nodded towards Gavin. "Now we need to discuss your treatment options." 

Ray knew what was coming and he had already made up his mind. 

"The first thing we need to do," Dr. Shulte continued, "is discontinue your use of the medications you are currently taking. The symptoms should go away after a week or so. However, given the current state of your mental disorders, I do believe it would be best to figure out alternative medicine you can take. One medication you can--"

"No." Ray said. 

"No what?" Dr. Shulte asked curiously.

"I mean yes, I'll stop taking the meds I'm on now, but no, I won't start taking any more." He said decisively. 

"Ray, are you sure?" His doctor asked. That was why Ray liked him so much. He wasn't pushy and never acted like his patents were beneath him because they didn't have PhDs. "I really do believe that another form of medicine would be beneficial to you, but it is ultimately your decision." 

Ray nodded. "I am completely sure." And that was the honest truth. He never wanted to take pills in the first place, and he hated the physical side effects. While they did help his mood and stabilize his swings a bit, the effects were minimal. He could handle it on his own. It was going to suck, but he could do it. 

-  
"So?" Geoff asked as soon as they got back into the waiting room. "What was it?" 

Ray hadn't come up with something to tell him yet. So he decided on giving minimal information about the truth. "Just some bad side effects from the medication I take." 

Geoff narrowed his eyes and nodded, but let it drop. He would just get Gavin to tell him later. 

The car ride home was quiet. Ray was tired, Gavin was upset about something, and Geoff didn't want to push the issue. So he just listened to the radio on a low volume, attempting to convey that they didn't _have_ to talk, but they could at any time if they wanted. 

When they pulled up to Ray's apartment complex, Geoff watched them exit the car and head to the stairs. Ray seemed fine, just under the weather, but something was _definitely_ up with Gavin. He hoped that whatever it was would be resolved soon. 

-  
Ray had noticed something was bothering Gavin. He had been acting strange ever since they left the doctor's. Ray figured he would hear what it was soon enough. Gavin wasn't big on keeping his feelings to himself. He thought it was better to skip the bullshit and sort it out as soon as possible. 

"You knew didn't you." He said. Literally the second after the door closed. 

"What?" 

"You knew. You knew exactly what could happen if- if you--"

"Gavin what are you talking about?" 

"And you still continued to take them!" 

_Oh._

Ray looked away. He tried to completely disassociate himself from the situation. His stomach burned and his throat felt heavy. 

"Don't ignore me you prick." 

That hurt a little. Rationally, he knew Gavin was just upset and he didn't really mean it. And he had been called a prick by Gavin about a thousand times before. But it was the context of the situation that made it sting. Ray swallowed and continued to look distantly at the wall behind Gavin. 

"Look at me." 

Ray concentrated on how his skin felt against the inside of his clothes. He felt the way the fibers pulled at his hair, the way the bandaid in the crook of his elbow tugged at the tender skin, the way his glasses sat loosely on the bridge of his nose. Anything but what Gavin was accusing him of. 

"Look at me." He said again. 

Ray stuck his right thumb inside of the opposite sleeve and felt the scabs that lay there. 

"Look at me!" Gavin took both of Ray's wrists in his hands and shook him slightly. Ray finally met Gavin's eyes, but he still wasn't completely there. He felt Gavin's grip on his wrists and how the fabric of his sweatshirt was compressed by his hands and how it pinched the cuts and Gavin's hands tightened and he shook Ray again and _oh God he was doing it again._ He had quit on reality and wasn't comprehending anything that was happening. 

Ray squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again. _Start simple. I am Ray. I am in my apartment. I am standing up. Gavin is with me. I just got home. Geoff drove us. I went to the doctor._

He started to piece together everything that led to why and where and how he stood where he stood. Gavin's green eyes were trained on him. They held confusion and distress. His lips started to move. 

"Ray. Just say something." 

"Yes." 

"I don't--" 

"Yes I knew." He said quietly. 

A sigh. "Then why didn't you stop taking them? You knew that you could die if you kept taking them, but you still did."

It wasn't something that Ray actively thought about. It was more like something his mind disguised and feigned ignorance to. He knew he could die, but he didn't think he would. He also knew what was happening as soon as the symptoms began. But his own mind had convinced itself that it was nothing more than the flu. So he did nothing to stop it. 

"That side effect is rare." He said, not looking at Gavin. 

"I mean when it first started to make you sick." 

"I thought it was the flu." He said lamely. 

"You just said that you knew!" 

"It's not that simple, Gavin."

"Then enlighten me. Because I'd really like to understand why my best friend essentially tried to kill himself slowly." 

"God, Gavin. I didn't try to--" he interrupted himself with a sigh. "I really didn't this time." 

"Wait, what?" 

_Shit. Fuck. Shit._ He had let his fucking mouth slip again. And he wasn't going to be able to worm his way out of this one.


	4. Send in the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my writing just gets progressively worse and less understandable as this goes on. But here is part four. Enjoy :)

Ray never expected to be in this situation, never expected to be having this conversation. No one but himself knew the whole story. And he didn't plan on anyone else ever finding out. 

Yet here he stood, Gavin's expectant gaze sweeping over his face, trying to get some insight to the turmoil in Ray's head. He honestly wasn't even thinking about how, or even if, he would explain this to Gavin. He was still just berating himself for being such a fucking idiot. And then maybe he went crazy for a few moments because all of a sudden he found the entire situation fucking hilarious. And the utter hilarity of it was not something he could keep inside. And seeing Gavin's face change to absolute confusion when he started to laugh out loud made it just that much funnier.

After all these years of keeping everything to himself and being so careful and so guarded, everything came crashing down in one sentence. One _stupid_ fuck up from brain to mouth. And to Gavin of all people? Gavin was the person who probably cared the least about anything and he was about to divulge the entirety of his fucked up life. Well, he was more of the fuck up than his life was. 

"Are you mental?" Gavin said, dumbfounded. That only made Ray laugh even more. 

"Yes." He said, and then started to laugh again. 

"Damn dude, lighten up." Ray said after seeing the look on Gavin's face. 

"No Ray. I want to know what the hell is going on. And I don't want to hear you spew some crap at me and lie. So maybe right now isn't a good time to be having this conversation if you're just going to stand there and laugh like a lunatic." He stopped talked and huffed irritatedly. "I'm going to go... Watch the television or something. Do whatever you want. This conversation isn't over." 

Ray had stopped laughing and taken to simply grinning at Gavin's frustration. He had stopped laughing mostly because he was out of breath and a little light headed. However, he was still enough in his right mind to try and make Gavin a little less pissed, because that would make the inevitable conversation more bearable for Ray. He pulled the corners of his mouth down to attempt a serious face before he spoke again. "Okay. I'm sorry Gavin. I will explain everything. I'm just a little all over the place right now." 

"As if that wasn't clear already." He replied, and walked over to the recliner he had pretty much been living in for the past week. 

Ray decided he needed to be away from Gavin for a while, so he went to his bedroom and flopped down on his bed. He was a little uncomfortable in his jeans, but he was too tired to get up and change into something more comfy. He pulled his phone from his pocket and fished around for his headphones before remembering they were on his nightstand. 

Right now, Ray didn't want to think. Music was his remedy for a lot of things, and avoiding his own thoughts was one of them. There were songs he listened to if he specifically wanted to think, and other songs he listened to when he didn't. There were songs he listened to when he was wired and wanted to get some energy out (by dancing like a complete idiot), and songs he listened to just so he would have enough motivation to get out of bed. 

There were a few times when he would put in his headphones and just stare at the list of music on phone without actually listening to anything. Those were times when he couldn't pinpoint what he was feeling. He usually ended up putting on his 'I don't want to think right now' music when that happened. Which is exactly what he wanted right now. 

He turned up the volume loud, louder than he usually did, to try and block out the overwhelming... Well, everything. 

Ray curled up in his thick comforter so he might warm up a little (his fever was still holding on). 

His mind just would not shut off. Every worry, every question, every reaction and possible conversation, everything, was assaulting him from every angle and overriding the music. Just focus. He picked out the bass notes to concentrate on. If he listened very closely he could hear them clearly. He could hear every time the bassist slid his fingers across the strings to change notes. He could hear the almost nonexistent feedback from the pickups when there were moments of rest. He could hear every single note as if it were being played specially for him. 

A new song played and this time he picked the drums to concentrate on. Then another and he focused on the harmonizing vocals. Another and another. Piano, the inhales of the vocalist. 

When he finally shut off his music he wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep or if he was just very successful in not thinking about anything. 

Ray took a deep breath and decided it was time to face Gavin. Thankful for the oversized pullover sweatshirt he was wearing, he dragged himself from underneath the comforter. He thought that was a very fitting name, because there was indeed something very comforting about being bundled up and warm and safe under a big fluffy blanket. He wished he could just burrow back under the covers and avoid Gavin forever. 

He knew the world didn't work like that. 

-  
Ray paced in the hall for a few long minutes. He had no idea how to approach Gavin and start the conversation. He quickly realized that pacing was only stressing him out more, so he decided fuck it: I'm just walking out there. 

Ray sat on the couch and stared at the TV to avoid looking at Gavin. Some shitty midday sitcom was on, but he knew Gavin wasn't really watching it. 

The silence was creeping in and making them both extremely uncomfortable, but Ray didn't know where to start, and Gavin was trying to respect his space and not be pushy. 

"Are you going to start this talk? Or shall I?" Gavin said. 

Ray suddenly found it very difficult to form words. So he just shrugged. 

"Are you actually going to talk?" Gavin asked. 

Ray nodded. "I just..." He started, but didn't know where to go from there. "I don't know where to start?" 

"How about the beginning?" 

He honestly couldn't remember the beginning. If there was one. It had been the same for as long as he could remember. Ray shook his head. "How about you ask questions, and I'll answer." 

"Well that kind of puts me on the spot." Ray sent him a look that said _'do you really want to go there?'_

"Alright!" He said defensively. "I've got one. What is lithium for?" He had wanted to ask that question since he first looked through Ray's medicine cabinet. 

"Bipolar disorder." Ray answered shortly. 

"That makes sense." He said quietly, fitting the pieces together. "Okay. I want to know what you meant by 'this time.' When we were talking earlier." 

Ray sighed. "Gavin, you know exactly what I meant." He still couldn't get over the fact he has let something that big slip. 

"I mean... You've tried before?" 

Ray was starting to lock up again. After a few uncomfortable moments he finally replied. 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"A while ago." 

"Ray-" 

"Gavin, just... This is embarrassing enough for me. Then you go and ask questions like 'when' and I have to embarrass myself even more by asking 'which time?'"

"You don't have to be embarrassed around me." He said. Ray let out a disbelieving noise. "Yeah okay." 

Gavin decided to just let it drop for a while. "So... how many times have you tried- tried to--" 

Ray cut him off to spare him from trying to put 'kill yourself' delicately. "Depends on how you define and attempt." 

"What?" 

"Well, I consider anything you do with the intent to die, a suicide attempt." Ray explained. "People can do deliberately risky or self destructive things without the intent to die." 

"Okay... So by your definition how many times have you tried to-" he stopped talking of his own accord this time. For whatever reason, Gavin was having difficulty saying 'kill yourself' or 'suicide.' Ray let it go. 

"Three." He said, then added quietly, "I think." 

"Damn." Gavin said, stunned. "Will you... Um is it weird if I ask you to tell me about them?" 

Ray shook his head. He was actually expecting that question. 

-  
The first time Ray tried to kill himself was his sophomore year of high school. He couldn't remember anything in particular about what made him snap and decide to end it all. All he remembered wad that everything was just _too much._

He stayed home from school more often than he should have. His parents knew, they were who called him in so he wasn't counted truant, but they were _not_ happy with him. His grades were not quite passing because of how many tests and assignments he missed from being absent (not that it mattered because he always managed to pull them back up to at least Bs). His teachers always acted like he was a huge inconvenience whenever he asked to come in for help. His friends had stopped trying to contact him and ask why he wasn't at school anymore. Everything had been building and building and he was just done. It wasn't even like anything happening was a huge deal, his mind just amplified every negative detail until it convinced him that negativity was all he had waiting for him in life. 

He remembered now what made him snap. 

He had just woken up (it was a school day and he had stayed home. Again). He tiptoed to the kitchen to get a pill for a killer headache he woke up with, hoping to avoid his parents and slip quietly back to his room. That was not what fate had in mind for him. As soon he stepped into the kitchen he found himself face to face with his dad. 

His dad looked at Ray and shook his head. Then he said a sentence Ray would never forget. 

"You know, you make our lives miserable." He said, then shook his head again and walked away. 

Ray remembered standing in the same spot with his mouth agape, in utter disbelief that his own father would say something like that. 

He felt that familiar stinging behind his eyes as the idea he had toyed with for months was cemented in his brain. 

Everything was kind of a blur after that. His mind didn't feel like it was connected to his body anymore. His hands reaching into the cupboard with everyone's pills in it. Taking out one Excederin for his headache. Taking the bottle of Lexapro (the first antidepressant prescribed to him) back to his room with a glass of water. Spilling the entire contents into his hand. Counting how many there were (twenty-seven). Downing them in three swallows. Falling asleep and hoping he wouldn't wake up. 

Unfortunately, he did. He woke up with a headache even worse than what he went to sleep with. His eyes were blurry, even with his glasses, and he couldn't focus on anything. His hands and body shook uncontrollably. 

Damn those stupid pills for being 'safe.' It was pretty much impossible to kill yourself with and SSRI. 

He didn't tell his parents. 

And he hated himself even more than he did before. 

-  
The second and third time Ray tried to kill himself were junior year. 

It happened much the same way as before. Everything minor just built on itself and his mind made it seem bigger than it really was. This time, there really wasn't anything in particular that triggered his mental breakdown. He was just in his room reading when it came time for his evening iron pill (it was the second round of iron for him. His blood count just would not stay where it was supposed to). 

Curious, he googled if you could die from an iron overdose. Apparently it was possible, but very unlikely unless you were a child. He counted his pills (forty-one). He slid out what he guessed was about half (nineteen). And swallowed them in two tries. He twisted the lid back on and continued reading, completely ready to die. 

Barely an hour later, he sure felt like he was dying. His stomach was cramping painfully and the nausea was almost unbearable. He abandoned his book and laid on his bathroom floor until he finally puked out everything he had ingested that day. 

His throat burned for days after and his mouth tasted like he had licked a handful of pennies. And he had sharp pains in his stomach for almost a week after. 

When the symptoms of his first overdose went away the following week, he tried again using the remaining pills (twenty-two). It was an almost exact repeat of what happened the last time he tried, only this time he threw up more violently. And it was red. Puking blood was never a good sign but he figured he would be fine. Unfortunately. 

Again, he didn't tell his parents. 

If he thought he was bad at life, he was even worse at ending it. 

-  
There _was_ a fourth time Ray tried to kill himself. He had decided early on he wouldn't share this attempt with Gavin. 

This time, he was nineteen and had just graduated, but he still lived with his parents. He still had not decided what he was doing with his life. He didn't think he would ever need to figure it out, because he honestly thought he would die (more specifically, kill himself) before he graduated. 

Ray believed he had no future. He had no extraordinary skills. He didn't even have any moderately cool skills. He couldn't draw, or paint, or sing, or play an instrument. He couldn't do math very well, and he thought history was the most boring subject. He was awful at science, and mediocre at best when writing. 

He believed his entire life had been utterly pointless. 

And he didn't want to have to see his parents' disappointment when they realized he would never amount to anything. 

Ray thought that his fate was determined, and he was not ready to face it. So he decided to do what would any rational (completely irrational) person would do. 

He waited for both of his parents to leave the house. He had decided against another overdose (because it had gone so well for him the past three times). He had recently taken up cutting himself again, after being clean for about three years, so he had his alternate method picked out already. 

Ray took the flimsy razor (that he had pried out of a disposable shaver) from its resting place behind his favorite book and sat in the bathtub so he wouldn't stain anything. He started with his right wrist, which was scar free. It was always too uncomfortable to hold the razor in his left hand, but he needed to make sure this would be the end. One cut, long and deep. It started just under the heel of his hand and traveled in a slight slope for about three inches. 

He did the same on his left wrist, slicing through scars, old and new. This side was deeper and more controlled. 

Both wrists were bleeding. A lot. And oddly enough, the only thing Ray could think about as he fell unconscious was how much he hated getting blood on his clothes. 

He had woken up in a hospital filled with every cliché he could think of. The white walls and bed sheets. The steady beeping of the heart monitor. The IV in the crook of his elbow. The pulse monitor clamped around his finger. 

He was alone in his room. He took a moment to sigh at how incredibly bad he was at committing suicide. There were bandages around both of his wrists and he knew that these scars would never go away. Not even fade. 

Ray found out later that it was his mom who found him. It was hard for him to look either of his parents in the eyes after that. 

He went through the required therapy sessions and promised he would take his new meds and promised he wouldn't do it again. 

He knew that was a lie. 

-  
He had decided not to tell Gavin about the fourth time for a few reasons. One, it was kind of brutal and graphic, and two, Gavin didn't know about his self harm. He was almost one hundred percent sure his parents were the only two people who knew. And he was not about to add a third to that list. 

It was also a bad idea to tell Gavin because it was something he still did. It was something he was hiding under his sleeves at that very moment. And Gavin would ask to see the scars. Ray knew he would. 

When Ray finished telling his rather depressing stories, Gavin sat quietly taking everything in. He breathed out long and heavy. "Wow. Okay. Just. Wow." He said. 

"Eloquent as always." Ray said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Gavin smiled slightly and rolled his eyes. "Do you... Do you still think about doing... That?" He asked. 

"No. I haven't for a while." Ray replied, mostly in truth. 

"Good." Gavin looked as if a physical weight had been lifted from him. "But do you think that you know, not taking medicine anymore would make it worse?" 

Ray had thought about that. But he decided that he needed to get through it on his own. Honestly all those meds ever did was cause problems. "It might. But I'll handle it." He said confidently. 

"Ray. Please, please, _please,_ call me or text me if you ever need anything." 

Ray rolled his eyes. He had gotten this speech so many times from his parents and therapists and psychiatrists. "Okay, Gavin."

"I mean it." 

"Okay." He said waiting for the spiel to be over. 

"No. Look at me. I need you to understand that it does not matter what time it is or where I am or where you are I swear I will drop everything and fucking walk to you if I have to." 

Ray was so used to just writing it off when anyone offered their help. Most of the time it was people who were obligated to do so, and they expected him to accept their offer, but never utilize it. And that was what he always did. But something in Gavin's voice and something in his eyes and in his posture said that he meant every single word. 

"Thank you, Gavin."


	5. Hey, Asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. I'm kind of losing motivation to write this. I probably still will though. 
> 
> Oh, and if anyone is wondering the chapter titles are all songs because I'm not that creative. I really recommend these songs though, they're great. :)
> 
> 1\. Sleep Spent- Death Cab for Cutie  
> 2\. Truce- Twenty One Pilots  
> 3\. Fall Away- Twenty One Pilots  
> 4\. Send in the Sun- Watsky  
> And this chapter's song is also by Watsky.

Ray went back to work the following Monday. Gavin was back at his own place which, as much as he enjoyed Gavin's company, Ray was extremely thankful for. 

His first week passed rather uneventfully, as did his second. However, he could tell the very first day that something was off. Something about the attitudes of the five other people he worked with was unsettling. It wasn't as though they were acting incredibly different, it was just slight, almost unnoticeable changes that were increasingly grating on Ray's nerves. The way someone would lock eyes with him and their expression would soften almost imperceptibly. The way they avoided certain words or phrases. The typical 'how are you' greeting paired with knowing eyes, badly masked with carelessness. 

It was enough to make Ray want to just yell at something- someone- anything- just to get out his frustration. It was clear that they knew something. How much, Ray didn't know, nor did he care to find out. It was the fact that they knew anything at all that bothered him. They felt like they needed to walk on eggshells around him, and were badly trying to cover it up. Fucking Gavin. 

This was the exact reason he never told anyone _ever_ about how fucked up he was. Because as soon as they found out, he would be treated as though he were made of glass, and was in danger of shattering at any given moment. The only thing _that_ accomplished was make him inch closer to losing his fucking mind. 

Halfway through his third week back, they were recording a Let's Play. Gavin, as usual, had done something stupid which subsequently spurred a rather loud bout of laughter from the rest of guys. 

"Oh my God, dude. I hope you enjoy that glass of bleach later." Ray said between laughs. 

Gavin made some incoherent noises in response, but it didn't cover up the sudden tension in the room, or the short beat of solid silence after their laughter had nervously died down. 

After that Ray was silent. He was fuming. They were fucking kidding right? He wasn't so fucking fragile that he would get offended by his own joke. Not only was it demeaning to Ray, acting like he was a damn breakable, they were also reacting like he had sprouted a second head. Like he was crazy for making that joke (admittedly in poor taste, but it wasn't like he hadn't done it before) given his past... experiences. 

His hands were itching to throw something at each and every one of their stupid heads. And to wring Gavin's wiry little neck. 

He knew the blowing up at everyone in the middle of the office was a bad idea, and would probably just reinstate his fragility in their minds and solidify the current behavior. Even asking Gavin to talk alone would raise suspicion, or at the very least cause 'knowing' looks. All he wanted to do was explain that he was not, in fact, a piece of paper that was going to be blown away and ripped apart by the hurricane that was Achievement Hunter. He was the exact same person he was three weeks ago, before anyone knew that _certain information_ Ray would have rather gone the rest of his life without anyone knowing. 

He had built walls around some choice aspects of his personality specifically to keep out pity. And because it was really none of their fucking business. Other than that, he was pretty much an open book. But now everyone knew about 'fragile, damaged Ray' and he was not happy about it. He was not damaged. He was _not_ fucking fragile. 

They were letting his past erase his personality. It was like all they could see every time they looked at him was 'I tried to kill myself' in neon letters. 

Damn, did he want nothing more than for his friends to go back to just seeing Ray. 

-  
Friday evening Gavin texted Ray. He had been messaging him much more often than usual since their 'talk.' 

'How are you?'

'Bored as hell. Are you busy?' 

'I'll force Geoff to drive me over.' 

'You know me so well' 

Ray decided he needed to tell Gavin to stop acting so careful. He had tried to just wait it out, wait for the initial shock to wear off and let everyone realize he wasn't a baby. And maybe three weeks wasn't long enough, but Ray was just so damn tired of it. 

Gavin had no inkling of Ray's true intent when he asked him over. And Ray thought that it was probably a shitty thing to do, but he tried not to think about it too much. If he did, he would be consumed by thoughts of just how selfish he actually was. That particular path was well worn in his mind, traveled more times than he could count or even remember. 

It was a dangerous path to travel. 

He shook his head and put on his 'I'm happy right now' music. Even if happy may not have been the right word, that was the mood he was aiming for. He opened some windows because it was actually quite nice out. And he just liked how the outside smelled today. 

Right about then, he vaguely heard someone knocking through his music. Assuming it was Gavin he opened the door and pulled his earphones out (he always felt rude leaving them in when he was around someone). 

"What's up?" 

"Hey, dude. Whatcha listening to?" Gavin asked, gesturing to his headphones. 

"Just some music. Probably not something you'd recognize." 

"What are you, a hipster?" 

"Bitch I might be." 

They fell into their usual conversation and settled in to play a game in co-op. The evening passed quickly and Ray was enjoying not having to talk about serious things for once. He almost didn't want to bring up his original purpose, for fear that it would ruin the entire night, but he needed to say it. 

"You seem like you've been thinking a lot about something all night."

Ray shrugged. "Yeah, but I think a lot _all_ the time." 

"True, but I have a feeling it might have to do with how weird you've been acting at work lately. You seemed sort of upset." 

"Oh, did I now?" He replied sarcastically. 

"Hey, don't bite my head off." 

"I hardly think sarcasm is in the realm of 'biting your head off.'" Ray said rolling his eyes. "This is why I didn't even really want to bring it up." 

"Well it's out there now." Gavin said. "So what's up?" 

"You guys are just being dickheads and tiptoeing around me at work. I don't need that." 

Looking slightly ashamed, Gavin replied, "Is it really that obvious?" 

"Little bit." Ray scoffed out.

"Sorry... I mean- we're just concerned and want to help." 

Like he hadn't heard that a hundred thousand times. "I totally get that. And I appreciate it. I really do, Gavin. But you don't need treat me like I'm glass. Please don't forget that I'm a human. With a personality. I'm not a chemical imbalance in my brain. I'm not my suicide attempts." 

Gavin continued to look even more embarrassed. "I- I didn't think of it like that. I just didn't want anyone to say anything that might upset you, you know?" 

"I can take a lot of shit, dude. I'm an adult. And I would definitely say something if anyone crossed a line." He said. "Which is exactly why we're having this conversation right now." 

Gavin's mouth formed a little 'o' shape as he realized what it was like from Ray's point of view. "So why are you telling _only_ me?" 

He shrugged. "I didn't want to cause a scene." 

"That makes sense. Do you want me to pass on the message?" 

"No. I need to be the one to do it." Ray paused, then continued, remembering the other thing he needed to confront Gavin about. "Oh, and Gavin, don't ever tell my shit to someone ever again. It makes it a little hard to trust you." 

Gavin looked away. "I'm sorry. I just..." He trailed off. 

"Yeah I know. You were just doing what you thought was best. Which I get." Gavin nodded. "But I can take care of myself." Ray offered him a smile to show that he wasn't mad. 

"Thanks for not making this a big deal, Ray." 

"I really don't need anymore drama in my life." 

"You are the biggest drama queen I know." 

And just like that, they were back to silly conversation. Ray thanked his lucky stars that the confrontation went how it did. Water under the bridge. 

-  
Two AM came and went, and Ray decided it was time for them to sleep. Gavin was already laid out on the couch staring at the ceiling and talking about something that didn't make sense. 

"Ray, I'm cold. Go get me some blankets." Gavin whined for the fiftieth time. 

"You're so needy." Ray said playfully. 

He left the room and returned with Gavin's stupid blanket. Ray plopped it right over his face and hit his stomach with a pillow. 

"Happy now, asshole?" 

"Mfffp." 

"What?" 

Gavin threw the blanket off his face. "Dick." 

"I did what you asked." He replied innocently. 

Gavin took the pillow off his midsection and positioned it beneath his head. After much fidgeting he said, "This pillow if bloody uncomfortable." 

"You could bitch about anything. Just go to sleep before I smother you with that 'uncomfortable' pillow." 

"You wouldn't do that." 

"Do you really want to find out?" 

Gavin threw a couch pillow at Ray. "Turn the light off on your way out." 

"I will literally kill you right now." Ray said as he flipped the light switch and left for his own bedroom. 

He changed into some comfortable sport shorts and a baggy t-shirt before heading to his bathroom to brush his teeth. 

-  
He stood over the counter in his bathroom, toothbrush somewhere near the soap dispenser. Maybe. He didn't pay attention to where he laid it back down. 

He was having such a good day. And well, he still felt okay. But something was just off. Something in him didn't feel _right_ and he had stood over his bathroom sink staring in the mirror for some time now. He wasn't really looking at his reflection, it was more of just somewhere to focus his eyes while his head turned in circles. 

He wasn't upset at anything, nor was he sad or stressed. But he wasn't really happy or joyful either. He didn't feel bad, but he didn't feel good. He was definitely feeling something though. Something that was just... not right. There was no other way to describe it. 

One thing he did know he was feeling, was calm. He opened a drawer next to the sink and pulled out a small box. It was the kind of box that jewelry was sold in, but with the cushions on the inside removed. That was where he stored his razors. He took the newest one (the sharpest one) out and snapped the box closed. He should probably just throw out all the dull, old ones. It wasn't like he used them, he thought passively. 

Double checking the lock on the door, he sat with his back against the wall and his knees up near his chest. Ray looked at all the scars he had accumulated through the years. They covered from wrist to about an inch from his elbow. Most were a silver color, faded so that you had to look really hard for them. Some, the more recent or deeper ones, were a pinkish brown. One was thick and raised. None were open cuts. Yet.

He really enjoyed looking at them and _wow there must be something really wrong with him_ because getting enjoyment from his scars was definitely not normal. They were so delicate, and they looked so nice on his otherwise plain wrist. He also really liked comparing his arms. His right only had a single scar (because he was awkward with his left hand). The smooth, light skin was such a contrast to to the colors and bumps on the left arm. 

Picking a place to cut was something Ray decided very carefully. He didn't like to intersect the cuts, and he didn't prefer to reopen old scars either. New skin. That's what he liked best. However, that wasn't really an option after so many years. So he chose a spot over some of the particularly faded scars. 

He started with one cut, shallow, superficial, so he could become reacquainted with how much pressure and at what angle he needed to cut in order to achieve the desired effect (what would make the best scar). The next cut was both deeper and longer, and blood pooled quickly in the small trench. He reached to his toilet for the tissue box and sat it next to him, just in case. The third cut was about the same as the second. And the sixth. And the ninth. He counted eleven when he decided to stop. 

Ray patted the blood from his arm with a tissue and reached under the sink for his first aid box. It was routine. Soap and water. Pat dry. Bandage. 

He returned everything to its place and stood in front of the mirror again. It was a little scary, how there was almost no trace of what had just happened. He inhaled big, and let out an exhale that was more akin to a sigh. It was time to _actually_ sleep now. 

Ray opened the bathroom door and crossed the threshold into his room. He stood for a second before deciding to put on a sweatshirt. Any other day he wouldn't have bothered, but as it was, he had some company. Better safe than sorry. Well, not sorry. More like 'better safe than alienate your friend and be extremely uncomfortable.'

He laid under his comforter and willed sleep to come. 

-  
Monday morning, Ray waited for everyone to be in the office before starting his little speech. Admittedly, he was nervous. Actually he was more anxious than nervous, but they were both there. 

Everyone was in the office, now was the time. Get it over with, like a preface to the day. 

He spun his chair around to face everyone. "Yo, I have to talk to you guys." 

They all turned to Ray, looking concerned. He rolled his eyes. 

"Alright, assholes. I'm gonna set some things straight. I know you all know, so don't play dumb. I appreciate the concern, but for the love of God, _please_ stop being so careful around me. I'm literally the same dude I was three weeks ago." 

They blinked at him, unsure how to respond. 

"Besides, I'm a tough guy." He flexed his nearly nonexistent muscles for emphasis. "I'm the toughest guy here." 

They all laughed a little at that. 

"I could kick your ass." Michael said. 

Ray flexed again. "Nah."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much if you've made it this far! If you feel like commenting or giving suggestions go right ahead!
> 
> This story is still pretty all over the place, but I'm trying. I kind of know where it's going now though????
> 
> Thank you again for reading and have a lovely day :)


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